


In A Wooden Nest

by catarrhini



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: A Big Schmoopy Puppy Dog, Arguing, Avalanches, Enemies to Lovers, Gimli is a crazy good cook, Hot Cocoa, Hot Lumberjack!Gimli, I mean, LPs, M/M, New Year's Eve, Power Outage, Rustic Log Cabins, Spoiled Prissy!Legolas, This fic pretty much has it all, Tight Spaces, also rustic af, gigolas af, shirtless dwarf chopping wood and being all sweaty and hot and shirtless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-14 11:56:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9180499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catarrhini/pseuds/catarrhini
Summary: Legolas has plans to spend New Year's Eve with his father in their cabin in the mountains. However, his plans don't quite pan out when Thranduil gets snowed in at the airport. Good father that he is, Thranduil asks the cabin caretaker to stay there with Legolas until he can arrive, but when Legolas meets the new, young caretaker, sparks fly. Factor in a rather inconvenient mistake on Legolas' part, and those sparks get fanned to flames.





	1. 28 December

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hauntedpoem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hauntedpoem/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This rustic, snowy little story is a gift of gratitude to [haunted poem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hauntedpoem/profile) for her support and enthusiasm.
> 
>  
> 
> Play [this](https://youtu.be/L5dUsZ4Djd0) while you read.

His ex-boyfriend had always mocked him for loving the autumnal neo-folk that now blared from the car speakers as Legolas drove down the snow-covered mountain road that led to his family’s cabin, all rich, green pine and tall, snow-capped purple peaks nesting a broad, mirror-like lake. The ex had been an asshole, and more than that, he’d been wrong about _music_ , a sin Legolas refused to forgive. He shook his head, wondering how his thoughts had drifted that far away from the anticipation of the warm reception he was going to be receiving shortly. He’d been driving for hours in the thick snow, quickly wearying of steering his father’s clunky, white Rubicon. He ached to finally pull onto the long gravel driveway, to find smoke curling from the cabin chimney and a wreath of spruce hanging from the rough oak of the front door. He longed to drag his fingers through the cold, pristine water of the river that ran merrily down a steep slope away from the house.

As he rounded a sharp bend in the road, the treeline fell away rapidly, unveiling the majesty of foothills and rivers that lay further down the mountain face. He heart sped a little. That view never got old. He jolted when is phone rang over the stereo system.

Jamming the button on the dash, he irritably barked, “Ada! I’m driving. You already there?”

“Sorry, pal,” the man’s rich voice filled the car. “I’m still at the airport. Flight’s been delayed. It’s snowing like the dickens out here. I’ve arranged for the new caretaker to meet you when you get there.” Legolas chewed his bottom lip.

“Is it futile to ask for an ETA?”

“I honestly couldn’t say,” he answered, and then he laughed. “Who’d have thought it’d be snowy in Sweden this time of year?”

“I told you not to go,” Legolas drolly reminded the man.

“It’s my job, Legolas,” the man sighed.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I’ll let you go now,” he quickly added. “Drive safe. I’ll see you as soon as I can.”

“Just don’t miss New Year’s Eve,” Legolas wheedled. “I brought fireworks!”

“Hey, sorry, gotta go!” He suddenly said. “They’re making an announcement. Love you!” Legolas replied in kind before punching the end call button on the dashboard, and he muted the music as it once more flooded the car. He had pulled into view of the cabin. He let out a relieved groan, relishing in the familiar crunch of gravel and snow under the tires.

“Now, there’s a sight for sore eyes,” he sighed. The cabin stood tall, exactly as it always had, shaped from rough-hewn timber and eggshell mortar. Legolas pushed open the car door, but just as he prepared to step into the fresh snow, a massive bloodhound came bounding down the front porch steps. The old hound had a deep and wobbly bark. Legolas panicked, shrieked, and pulled the car door shut just in time as the dog leapt up to press his face against the window, smearing the glass with slobber.

“Down, Vidar!” A red-bearded young man shouted as he came jogging down the path to the SUV. He pulled the auburn dog away by the collar. As the bloodhound reluctantly heeled, his tail beat a happy tattoo against the snow. 

Legolas, eyes wide with terror, rolled the window down a crack and shouted breathlessly through the gap, “Keep that mutt away from me!” The man glowered and tugged his thick, flannel shirt tighter around himself as he struggled to keep the excitable pup from attacking the car again.

“Vidar’s a big softie,” he swore. “He won’t hurt you.”

Legolas gazed balefully down at the dog. He sneered, “I’d rather not test that theory.” As he struggled with Vidar, the man sighed deeply and rolled his eyes.

“Fine,” he said. He hesitated before offering, “I, uh... I can put him in the woodshed, if that’s... I mean, it’s awfully cold in there, though.” The man waited expectantly for Legolas to soften. Legolas remained silent, an eyebrow arched. Accepting defeat, the man bent down and scratched the dog’s head, muttering, “Sorry, little brother.” He scooped the bloodhound up in his arms and carried him off to the woodshed. When he returned to the car, the snooty blonde was busy tugging his suitcases from the back of the Rubicon.

“He can’t stay there all night, you know,” the man said, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. He shivered in the cold, cursing the sudden arrival that had left him with no time to put on a jacket. He could see the Elf purse his lips, that damned eyebrow arching again.

“Well, my father will be here soon enough, so it won’t be an issue,” Legolas replied blandly.

“That’s not what I was led to believe when he and I spoke earlier.”

Legolas huffed, growing more embarrassed by the moment. “Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t need a babysitter. I’m not sure why he asked you to come anyway. You’re free to go home whenever.”

“Maybe so.” The young caretaker shifted awkwardly where he stood. “I’m Gimli, by the way.”

Legolas knew his cheeks were growing redder by the second. He didn’t know why he then snapped, “Are you just going to stand there, or...?” He gestured to the skis on top of the vehicle, not really knowing what else to say. Gimli was frankly too gobsmacked to protest at being spoken to in such a manner. He mechanically moved to help the Elf carry his effects into the cabin. He cast a side-glance at Legolas as the prissy boy threw himself onto the cramped white sofa bed across from the fireplace. He looked across the room to where Gimli fiddled around in the small kitchen at the backdoor. He called, “Is there anything warm to drink?”

“There’s coffee,” Gimli answered, “if you ask nicely.” Legolas scoffed.

“Never mind.”

Gimli bristled. “Suit yourself,” he growled. Pouring himself a steaming cup of coffee, he said in a studiously conversational tone, “The snows have been unusually heavy this year, but it’s gotten a little slushy this week. I hate to disappoint you, but you’ll not likely be using those skis any time soon.” He took a sip of coffee in a desperate attempt not to grin smugly.

“Whatever,” Legolas shrugged. He punched a text into his phone and kicked his feet up on the wrought iron arm rest on the edge of the sofa. Finally, he sighed and looked over at the Dwarf who now sat at the carved table in the breakfast nook in the back corner of the large cabin. Gritting his teeth, he asked, “Can I please have some coffee?”

Gimli’s lips twitched as he said, “Sure thing,” loping over to the stove to make a fresh pot on the gleaming stove top. At length, he brought a beaten tin mug over to Legolas and set it on the teak coffee table. “I have some work to do outside before dark.” Legolas merely nodded, eyes glued to his phone. Gimli tugged his coat from the hook by the back door and yanked it on.

Before he’d pulled the door behind him, Legolas called out, “You know, you don’t have to wait for my father to come back. You and your mutt can leave whenever.”

“How very benevolent of you.” Gimli smirked. “But as far as I’m concerned, your father is the king of this castle, and he told me to stay until he arrives.” He couldn’t resist taking a parting shot before he left the cabin. “Seemed to think you’d need some help adjusting to the lack of mod cons.”

 

Legolas had busied himself with reading a novel to while away the hours until his father arrived. The sun had begun to set, and the fire had long since guttered out in the hearth. A creeping chill pulled him away from the tome in his lap. He stood before the fireplace, staring quizzically at the charred logs. He prodded a few times with the iron poker but to no avail. With no small amount of annoyance, he realised he’d need to ask that insufferable Dwarf for help. _Again_.

He pulled on his boots and jacket and ventured outside, where he found Gimli stripped down to the waist, his barrel chest and swollen biceps heaving as he brought a heavy axe down on a waiting hunk of wood. It split with a hollow thunk. Legolas swallowed hard as he took in the sight before him. Gimli swiped at the sweat dripping from his brow as he realised he was being watched. He looked up at the blonde on the porch. “Can I help you?”

“I’m cold.”

“It’s December,” Gimli said patronisingly, and Legolas grit his teeth at the tone.

“I don’t know how to start a fire,” he admitted. Gimli looked at him with a pathetic expression. Legolas reckoned that if this humiliation went on for much longer, he’d be so red hot he wouldn’t need a fire anymore. Gimli just went back to chopping wood. At length, he paused, leaning against the axe handle, the red-lacquered steel head planted in the snow.

“You know,” Gimli said indulgently. “Maybe if you carried this wood into the shed for me, you’d build up a sweat. Wouldn’t be so cold.” Legolas tsked and rolled his eyes. Gimli’s head dropped to one side as he sized up his reluctant charge. “You know I’m not a servant, right?” Gimli demanded. “I just look after this place for your father. You seem to think I’m somehow below you, and I just wanted to clear up that little misconception right away.” Legolas ignored him.

“So, if I carried the wood to the shed, well...” Legolas gestured vaguely. “What about your murder hound? He’s still in there. Besides, why can’t _I_ just chop the wood instead?” He asked sullenly. Gimli barked with laughter. Legolas just about snarled at his derision.

“ _You_? Chop wood?” Gimli asked incredulously. “Umm, because you’re scrawny, perhaps?”

“That’s rich coming from you, Shortstack,” he snarked.

After a moment’s dilemma of whether or not to explain the differing advantages of height versus muscle mass, Gimli just shrugged and held out the axe handle to Legolas. “By all means, then.” Legolas marched haughtily up to the chopping block and steadied a log on its ragged surface. Grasping the axe with both hands, he lifted and swung down _hard_. His shoulders screamed when the metal met with wood and deflected off to the side. Gimli bit his lips as a hysterical giggle bubbled forth. Legolas threw down the axe and turned on Gimli, who stood a full head shorter than him. Bitterly, Legolas wondered how he dare be so short and yet still so full of himself.

“Will you come sort out the fire or not?” He hissed. Gimli nodded, nearly choking on girlish laughter. He tugged his red plaid flannel back on and followed Legolas’ marching figure back into the cabin. Legolas tripped and nearly fell on the skis he’d left in the walkway. Gimli elected not to comment, for fear of getting stabbed with the daggers Legolas was firing from his eye sockets.

 

Night had fallen in earnest by the time Gimli finished chopping wood. He now bustled about in the kitchen, heating up some leftover steak and kidney pie on the range. Legolas stalked over to see what was on offer for dinner, but when he saw the meaty pie, he scrunched his nose in disapproval. Gimli looked up at him. “Are you hungry?”

“No,” Legolas said, turning back to the sofa and the roaring fire. “Thanks.”

Gimli thunked his bowl down on the dining table and dug into his supper. Legolas’ stomach growled, and he felt himself becoming more and more grumpy from his hunger. He dug around in his rucksack and snatched a Luna Bar from its depths. He yanked off the wrapper and ate the entire bar in a couple of bites. Gimli watched this and asked, “You sure you don’t want some?”

“Yes,” Legolas hissed, crumpling up the wrapper in a tight fist. “I’ll just wait for breakfast.”

“Okay,” Gimli sang in a voice that clearly said he wasn’t convinced. After a few more bites of the rich pastry, he looked over at Legolas stewing on the sofa like an impotent storm cloud. “You know you’re a real piece of work, right?” Legolas rolled his eyes and rose from the sofa, shoving his phone in his jeans pocket.

“I’m going to bed,” he announced, climbing the ladder to the tiny bedroom in the loft.

“I’m letting Vidar back in,” Gimli announced. Legolas was too tired and hungry to feel much like arguing.

 

The snow fell heavy from the deep night sky, a lacy flurry punctuated by crystalline bursts of starlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to share my visual inspiration for this fic.
> 
> Here's the cabin exterior, both [front](https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B4Y2G2-Jcb2ZU0JIa0NVelJiLW8) and [back](https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B4Y2G2-Jcb2ZUVp3QVNuZ2pmNG8). And also just a [window](https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B4Y2G2-Jcb2ZcWVLeXBSOVFTaGc), for some reason.
> 
> Here's the cabin interior, including a [general view](https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B4Y2G2-Jcb2ZVXMyVVZReHA4TVE), the [kitchen](https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B4Y2G2-Jcb2ZNkpLYkU4cGJDd3M), and the [dining area](https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B4Y2G2-Jcb2ZaDc2Mkp3S3UzOGM).
> 
> Here's the [wood shed](https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B4Y2G2-Jcb2ZdF9oUElZbjliNlk) and a [view from the inside](https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B4Y2G2-Jcb2ZUWIzUmZvZnBQV3c).
> 
> Also, here's [Shortstack](https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B4Y2G2-Jcb2ZUEdRUlRDa015Qm8) and his [personal effects](https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B4Y2G2-Jcb2ZNnpVUVNhM2NVek0).
> 
> Thanks for reading! Stay toasty!


	2. 29 December

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's [Vidar](https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B4Y2G2-Jcb2ZcUNDRlNZaThHR1U), our floppy, lovely little friend.
> 
> Oh, and I forgot to add a picture of the [pantry](https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B4Y2G2-Jcb2ZaWNWSE5sRlZFYXc) in the last chapter.

Legolas stirred in the depths of his nest of thick comforters and down pillows, stretching and wincing as the chill air in the room gushed under his blankets. He briefly considered the possibility of sleeping on the floor in front of the fireplace. Eventually, he sat up and pulled the comforter snug around himself. He gazed out the window at the foot of the bed, and with a soft smile, he watched bright red cardinals dipping and flitting between the tall pine trees that surrounded the cozy little cabin. 

The scent of brewing coffee wafted up from the kitchenette, and he breathed appreciatively. Reluctantly, he withdrew from the bed and quickly yanked on navy longjohns, a grey knit cardigan, cream wool socks, and fluffy house shoes. He ran a quick brush through his tangled blonde hair. Tossing the brush onto the messy bed, he leaned over the rail of the loft and looked down into the living space below. Silently, he watched the ginger Dwarf carrying mugs and dishes to the table.

“Wondered when you’d wake up. Thought you might’ve died,” Gimli said without looking up at his observer. “The day’s nearly half gone.” Legolas pursed his lips and grabbed his phone.

“It’s not even ten,” he drawled, arching his eyebrow. Gimli looked up at the Elf now, hands resting on his hips. Legolas could see that the young man was trying his best to hide his amusement, an emotion the man seemed to have in spades, especially at Legolas’ expense.

“I’m up at five every morning,” he said with his chin lifted and a light in his eyes. “There’s always work to be done.” Legolas rolled his eyes. Gimli returned to preparing the breakfast table. “Now, are you going to come down here and eat, or what?” Legolas’ stomach gurgled at the very mention of food. He promptly descended the ladder and went to sit at the dining table. Gimli came over with a steaming plate of pancakes fresh from the griddle. He placed it in front of Legolas and stood watching him for a moment, gauging the Elf’s expression with an expectant grin.

Finally, Legolas glanced up from the plate before him, fighting a growing smile of his own. “A shortstack, huh?” Gimli shrugged, his smile brightening his eyes. He went back to the kitchen to prepare his own plate.

“Thought you’d appreciate that,” he said. He brought two plates back to the table and sat down, instantly reaching to pour two cups of coffee. Gesturing to a plate of crispy bacon, he asked, “Bacon?” Legolas mentally recoiled.

“No, thanks,” he said, his tone icier than he’d intended. Immediately, Gimli’s face fell.

“Anyway,” he said, now all gruff and stormy. “Your father called a few hours ago. Still no luck with the weather.” Legolas sighed heavily and poured warm maple syrup from a tureen onto his pancakes, drowning them to his satisfaction. Gimli elected not to comment on the Elf’s apparent sweet tooth.

“Really, you don’t have to stay,” Legolas said quickly, fork perched in his long fingertips. “Just show me how to start a fire, and I’ll be okay.” Gimli sighed and shook his head.

“Well, you see, I can’t just do that,” he said slowly. “The appliances in the kitchen haven’t been updated since this place was built, and there’s a very good chance you’ll burn it all down if you try to cook anything.” Legolas wanted to argue, but he glanced over at the antique, practically alien cooker and knew Gimli was right. _Damn him_. “It’s fine, anyway. It’s my job. Now, will you eat already?”

Legolas nodded and dug his fork into the fluffy pancakes. Gimli tried to pretend he wasn’t watching when Legolas took his first bite. His blue eyes flickered shut, and he savoured the bite for a long while. The cakes were warm and buttery and light. He couldn’t remember having pancakes this good, not since his mother died. Immediately, his throat grew tight, and his heart sank into his stomach at the memory of the woman’s tragic, untimely death. He swallowed it all down. He couldn’t think about it just now.

“What’s wrong?” Gimli asked. “You don’t like it?” His forehead scrunched. Legolas grabbed his coffee and took a ginger sip, not entirely sure he’d be able to speak without a fortifying swig.

“They’re fine,” Legolas whispered hoarsely. Gimli frowned.

“People usually love my pancakes,” he said vacantly. Legolas gave a jittery sort of nod before starting to cram bites down his throat, his hunger and his discomfort battling with each other. Hunger won out, and soon, his plate was empty. Gimli hadn’t taken a bite, bewildered as he was by Legolas inhaling his breakfast. Legolas wiped his mouth with a linen napkin. Snatching up his coffee, he rose from the table with a mumbled thanks and stalked over to the sofa. He felt so cold, and the fire was so inviting.

Gimli just shrugged off the odd behaviour as something peculiarly, particularly elvish and finally tucked into his own breakfast. After a moment, he heard Legolas, voice pinched and high.

“Um, _Gimli_ ,” the Elf panicked. “Is he supposed to be up here?” Gimli glanced over to see that Vidar had wandered out from his hiding spot in the pantry and had plopped himself onto the sofa next to Legolas. Gimli nearly laughed to see that Legolas had scooted as far as physically possible away from the dog, his novel trust forward in white-knuckled fingers as a barrier between the two. Legolas glared at him. “Uh, can you stop smiling at me and _do something_?”

“Vidar’s not gonna hurt you,” Gimli said. He took another bite of pancakes, looking away from Legolas’ blatant expression of disbelief and disgust. “He just wants somewhere comfortable to rest. Ignore him.” He could hear Legolas grumbling under his voice, but by the time he’d finished eating his breakfast, he looked over to see that Legolas had thawed somewhat and was lost in his novel again, his long, slender legs slung up on the sofa, albeit with a rather large space between himself and the snoozing bloodhound.

As he watched, Legolas absently tossed his hair to one side, baring his neck, exposing a long stretch of milky, delicate skin. Gimli’s stomach flipped. He shook his head, and he rolled his eyes rather pointedly. Mahal spare him from prissy, girly elf boys. As he cleared the table of their breakfast dishes, he had no intention of reminding Legolas that he wasn’t the brat’s servant. He’d wash the dishes himself, as he had the sneaking suspicion that Legolas had no clue how to do so.

 

The fire crackled in the hearth as Gimli stood before the grate, stoking the logs with sure jabs of the poker. He glanced over at Legolas, still on the sofa, though now glued to some game on his iPad. “You’ve been sitting in that same spot since breakfast.”

Legolas raised an eyebrow as he looked up from his game. “And?” Gimli gave a bemused huff of laughter.

“And I’m wondering how you can still feel your legs,” he said, placing the iron poker back onto its stand next to the dancing, snapping fire.

“You don’t have to worry about my legs,” Legolas mumbled, returning to his game. Gimli bristled.

“Not worried about your legs,” he grumbled. “Just wondering how someone can sit for hours playing on one of those GameBoy doohickies.” Legolas erupted into belly laughs.

“ _GameBoy doohickies_?” He gasped, setting his iPad aside. “What century do you live in?” Gimli shifted uncomfortably as he accepted the brunt of Legolas’ mirth.

“Pardon me, Inspector Gadget,” he groused, stalking into the kitchen as Legolas’ hysteria died in increments. “Some of us hunt and fish to keep ourselves occupied.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a vegetarian,” Legolas quipped. Gimli grimaced comically.

“Then you’re going to hate what I’ve got planned for lunch,” he said. Legolas’ shoulders drooped and his face fell. “Rabbit stew. Trapped the rabbits just yesterday.” Legolas tossed his hair, and his nose lifted unconsciously into the air.

“I’m sure I have another Luna Bar somewhere,” he sighed dramatically. Gimli shook his head.

“No,” he groaned. “I can just make it without the rabbit.” Legolas wanted to tell him not to worry about it, not to inconvenience himself, but as the Dwarf stood watching him with those intense eyes and serious stance of his, Legolas found himself at a loss for words. He just shrugged and grabbed his novel off the coffee table. Gimli waited for gratitude, but he realised it wasn’t coming. He set about chopping thick chunks of potato and carrot in irritated silence.

At length, Legolas looked up from the book, watching Gimli heaving a heavy pot of water onto the range. The urge for conversation bubbled up suddenly, and he blurted, “My grandfather Oropher built this cabin.” Gimli nodded, rubbing at his beard as he adjusted the temperature of the stove.

“I know,” he said in a tight voice. “This mountain is my ancestral home. My father’s father’s father’s father’s father once owned every square foot of this land. Probably still would, had Smaug Logging Industries not come in and razed the place so long ago.” Legolas could hear by the tremble of the Dwarf’s voice that this was a sore subject.

“Oh,” he said dumbly.

His grip tight on the wooden spoon, he snarked, “But thank goodness Oropher was able to come swooping in to save the day, to allow us to pay for the right to live on our own land.” Legolas’ stomach grew tight, and the hot burn of shame crept up his neck.

“Look, I’m really-”

“No,” Gimli sighed. “You didn’t do anything. This was all set in stone long ago.” In Legolas’ head was a flurry of apologies and the fear that he’d said something really, really wrong. Just as he felt more clumsy apologies bubbling up, he became aware of Vidar’s warm snout coming to rest on top of his foot. He snapped his gaze down at the dog, ready to smack the vicious thing away should he attack. Gingerly, he pushed the dog’s head off his foot with the edge of his book and tucked himself further against the arm of the sofa.

 

Legolas could hardly even admit to himself how much he was enjoying the rich, spicy stew that Gimli had served for lunch, but when he caught the cocky glow in Gimli’s eyes, he quickly realised that Gimli knew exactly how much Legolas was salivating over it. Wordlessly, Gimli served Legolas a second helping. Legolas nonchalantly asked for leftovers when dinner rolled around. Gimli pretended to be surprised by the request.

 

The sun had long since set on the cabin. Gimli had tidied up after dinner, yet again ignoring the prickling annoyance that Legolas hadn’t offered to help. The Elf had taken up his spot on the sofa, and again, Gimli didn’t complain about the fact that Legolas had essentially usurped his bed. He thumped over to the kitchen table and flopped into the seat next to the window. He pulled his hand-carved pipe, a box of long matches, and a sachet of loose tobacco from his rucksack. Sliding the window open ever so slightly, he then packed the bowl of the pipe with the pungent leaf. The scratching of the match against the rough side of the matchbox satisfied him, brought a smile to his lips.

With the first puff of the pipe, he instantly felt a rush of calm settle in his limbs. The smoke curled from his nostrils and was sucked through the gap in the window as a slight draft of cold night air brushed against his face. The moon was low and yellow and bright tonight. It reflected off the snow and gave the illusion that the dark of night on this mountain wasn’t quite so absolute. He felt a little perfect, all things considered.

That fortress of calm came collapsing down when the prissy Elf gasped from across the cabin, “Oh. My god. Are you _smoking_?” He snapped the book shut on his lap. “That’s a filthy habit, you know. You’ll get cancer for sure.” Gimli rolled his eyes as he took another drag. He blew the smoke out the window and watched it dissipate in the soft flurry of snowflakes that fell.

“Worth it,” he muttered.

“Wow,” Legolas said pointedly. Gimli hissed to himself before tapping the bowl out on the windowsill. He shoved his supplies back into his rucksack and yanked the drawstrings taut. He stomped over to the sofa, where to his shock, he found Legolas patiently checking his phone with Vidar’s head fully resting across the Elf’s lap. His heart swelled instantly until he remembered how annoyed he was. Legolas looked up at him quizzically. “Can I help you?”

“I’m ready for bed,” he gruffly stated. Legolas grew a little sheepish.

“Oh, I, uh... I wanted to see if we could switch beds,” he asked delicately. “It’s warmer down here, and besides, I usually sleep on the sofa anyway when ada’s here.” Gimli nearly groaned.

“You’re just determined to make things hard for me, aren't you?” He demanded. Legolas bit his tongue, face flushing. “Fine,” he barked. “Vidar, come!” The sleepy bloodhound opened an eye to look up at his master. He didn’t budge. “Vidar, _come_!” Vidar shifted for a moment, like he aimed to hop off the sofa and heel. Instead, he snuggled closer to Legolas’ thigh. Gimli crossed his arms in impotent rage at the betrayal.

Legolas very carefully leaned forward to place his book on the coffee table, so as not to jostle the dog. “It’s okay. He can sleep here.” Gimli’s mouth dropped open before he could catch himself.

“Of all the-” He huffed. “Fine. Good night.”

“Good night,” Legolas said quietly. Before Gimli began the climb up the ladder to the loft, he glanced once more at the bewildering creature sitting cross-legged on the sofa, unaware he was being observed. Legolas was very tenderly, awkwardly patting the top of Vidar’s head. Legolas leaned forward, and Gimli could hear him whisper into Vidar’s floppy ear, “Nice doggie.”

Gimli’s heart pounded against his ribs. He reluctantly ascended the ladder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the feedback, guys!
> 
> You can find me on [my tumblr](http://catarrhini.tumblr.com).


	3. 30 December

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just listening to the Fleet Foxes' eponymous album on repeat while writing this fic. You can do the same [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rQ5B-U6LwaA&list=PL6ABAEFA4C6257B18).
> 
> [Here](https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B4Y2G2-Jcb2ZbFFiN0xJU2pjaWs)'s Legolas' hot cocoa. Drink up and stay warm, friends.

Gimli groggily clambered down the ladder the next morning, bright and early, just as the sun crested the snowy peaks. Golden beams of sunlight danced through the tops of the pine trees, and Gimli stretched his arms up over his head, wringing the sleep out of his limbs. Tugging on his boots, he blearily trudged out onto the front porch and gazed out at the stretch of land before him, nested in the clearing of the tall, hardy pine that surrounded the tall, hardy cabin. He scowled.

It had clearly been snowing all night. He’d need to shovel quite a bit of the driveway to steer his beat up old Chevy safely out to the road for his trip to the market. He sighed again before crunching through the deep snow to the woodshed. He shifted the bolt on the door and leaned in, plucking up two big armfuls of hewn logs. Kicking the door shut behind him, he returned to the house, the nip of the icy morning sharp on his heels.

As softly as he could, he stacked the firewood next to the hearth. Gimli glanced over at the slumbering blonde stretched out across the sofa bed. He smirked upon finding Vidar practically sleeping atop the Elf, nestled in the crook of his arm, the hound’s droopy face and big front paws planted on Legolas’ shoulder. “Traitor,” Gimli whispered fondly. He bent to stoke the fire that had all but guttered out in the wrought iron grate.

As heat began to flood the cabin once more, he heard Legolas stirring behind him. “Ugh,” he groaned. “What time is it?” He threw his free arm over his eyes dramatically.

“Close to five thirty, I’d reckon,” Gimli answered, wiping his hands on the thighs of his tight jeans.

“In the _morning_?” He cried. Gimli bit back a chuckle.

“‘Fraid so.”

Pulling his arm away from his face, he sluggishly blinked his eyes open. “What do people even _do_ at this hour?” Gimli stalked over to the kitchenette and began bustling around with pots and spatulas.

“Well, breakfast,” he said cordially, “for starters.” He glanced over at the Elf once more, pleased to find him trying his hardest to get out of bed without jostling Vidar awake. He chose not to comment on Legolas’ change of heart nor Vidar’s apparent change of allegiance. “Did you sleep well?”

“Not really,” Legolas answered mildly, slipping his wool-socked feet into a well-loved pair of Uggs. He came into the kitchen and leaned against the far wall, watching Gimli work. “Vidar snores,” he added.

“And he farts,” Gimli laughed. He glanced back at Legolas, who had the distinct look about him of someone dying to say something he wasn’t sure how to say. Finally, Legolas spoke.

“Can I help cook?” He asked hesitantly.

“Can you make porridge?” Gimli asked, an eyebrow raised. He scratched at his beard to disguise his smirk. Legolas deflated.

“Uh, not really,” he said. “No.”

“Is there anything you _can_ do?” He asked, and he nearly flinched when he realised how judgemental he must sound. Legolas’ expression soured. Quickly, Gimli added, “Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got everything covered.” A moment passed in silence, but then the water began to boil, and Gimli dumped in a scoop of oats, a tablespoon of cinnamon and a dash of salt.

“Actually,” Legolas said at length, his voice jumping with poorly concealed excitement. “I make really good hot cocoa.” Gimli stirred and hid an indulgent smile.

“Can you, now?”

“Yeah,” Legolas declared, rushing over his where his backpack and its contents lay scattered across the floor. He dug around in the bottom of the bag for a moment before he made a celebratory sound. Jumping up to his feet, he asked, “Is there any more milk?”

“About half a carton. In the fridge.”

Legolas traipsed back into the kitchen, humming a vague tune as he tugged the refrigerator open and grabbed the carton of milk. He turned to Gimli, suddenly very aware of his close presence. He looked down at the Dwarf, and Gimli gazed up at him, steadily stirring the pot of porridge as it bubbled. That infuriating grin of his twisted his lips, and the moment ended abruptly, Legolas snapping away to dig around in the pantry for a small saucepan. “I need cinnamon and cayenne pepper.”

“Pepper’s in there with the other spices. Cinnamon’s over here with me,” Gimli answered lightly, though his hands were inexplicably shaking. He took a steady breath. 

Legolas pottered back over to the stove, and Gimli lowered the flame on the stove and gave him some room to work. Legolas’ forehead scrunched, and he glanced all around the kitchen looking for something. “Where’s the milk?” Gimli reached down and took the carton from Legolas’ firm grip.

“In your hand,” he said softly, pinching the carton open. He handed it back to Legolas, and damn him if the blonde wasn’t looking extremely flustered. _How very interesting_.

“Oh,” he sighed. “Right.” He accidentally yanked the carton away from Gimli and turned around to focus on the task before him. His head swam for a moment as he struggled to remember just what that was. Eventually, he sloshed the milk into the saucepan. He stared blankly at the archaic controls on the cooker before turning to Gimli with a helpless expression. 

Legolas’ blue eyes flashed when Gimli asked, “How hot do you want it?”

The Elf cleared his throat and said, “A low-” He cleared his throat again. “A low simmer would be fine.” Without a word, Gimli pressed a broad hand to the small of Legolas’ back and leaned forward to set the burner ablaze. If Legolas leaned ever-so-slightly into the touch, Gimli was too polite to comment. He wasn’t too polite, however, to make a very interested mental note. He pulled away to lean against the sink under the pretence of keeping watch over the porridge. 

Legolas unwrapped the two bars of dark chocolate he’d produced from his bag and began to snap them into small, rough pieces, plopping them into the steaming milk. He whisked the mixture until the chocolate melted away in warm, creamy swirls in the pan. With a sure hand, he sprinkled first the cinnamon and then the pepper into the cocoa. Gimli pulled two mugs from the mug rack hanging near the sink, and he plunked the stoneware down on the oak counter top. In a moment of slight panic, he realised he hadn’t been watching the porridge quite as closely as he should have been. 

Snatching up the wooden spoon, he swooped in behind Legolas with a muttered “Pardon me” and quickly began stirring the porridge before it scorched and he had to throw it out. Legolas glanced down at the strong hand now resting on his hip, and he bit his bottom lip, faltering somewhat in his fluid whisking of the simmering cocoa. When Gimli grasped the pot of porridge with both hands and carried it to the table, Legolas felt a little bereft.

He ladled the cocoa evenly into the two mugs and tossed a handful of marshmallows in, stirring the brew around with a cinnamon stick he'd pilfered from the pantry. He carefully brought them over to the table, placing one in Gimli’s calloused hands. “Tell me what you think,” he said as Gimli blew on the steaming mug. He gingerly took a sip, his eyes fluttering shut. The groan that issued deep and low from his throat left Legolas feeling suddenly parched. “It’s good, right?”

“Good?” Gimli asked incredulously. “Let me put it this way,” he began, a knot of nerve forming peskily in his belly, “If you fuck as good as you make cocoa, you’ll make some woman very happy some day.” Legolas felt his face flushing crimson, and he sat down at the table, nearly spilling his drink as he tried to school himself.

“Woman,” he scoffed. “Yeah, sure.” Though he remained taciturn, Gimli’s brain throbbed with how much he liked the tone of dismissal Legolas’ voice had taken. _How very, very interesting_.

They finished breakfast mostly in silence. A chord of pity struck in Gimli’s heart each adorable time Legolas started to nod off before violently shaking himself awake again. As he rose to do the washing up, Gimli said, “I’m heading into town soon. We’re running low on food and supplies. Care to join me?” Legolas plopped down on the sofa and picked up his iPad.

With real regret, he said, “I was actually gonna try to Skype ada. You know, get an update.” Gimli nodded, drying a pot with a rough muslin dish towel.

“Anything I can pick up for you?” He gruffly offered, stroking at his beard absentmindedly.

“Honestly?” Legolas ventured. “A bottle of good wine?” Gimli scoffed.

“It’s a mining town,” he explained. “You’d be lucky to find good whiskey, much less good wine.” Legolas shrugged.

“Oh, well,” he sighed, “it was worth a shot.”

 

Hours later, Gimli marched through the front door of the cabin, arms loaded with tote bags of vegetables and butter and matches and assorted odds and ends. He heaved the canvas bags full of supplies onto the table and cast a perfunctory glance around the empty cabin. “Legolas?” He called. Vidar looked up from his nap by the fireplace and harrumphed as he started dozing off again.

Legolas’ voice filtered into the cabin from somewhere out in the back yard. “Hey, Gimli, come watch!” A burst of curiosity found Gimli promptly exiting through the back door to find Legolas crouched some distance away, his back to the cabin.

“What are you getting up to out here?” He asked, leaning against the rough porch column.

“Dry run for tomorrow night,” Legolas called, pulling something Gimli couldn’t see from the pocket of his North Face. “I got bored.” Gimli then clearly heard the familiar scratch of a match being struck, and his heart seized in his chest. He froze solid, and his hearing dimmed as terrible panic overcame his senses.  
Survival instinct kicked in, and he tore off towards Legolas’ crouched figure, screaming the only word that his frantic brain could produce. “Nooooo!” 

But by the time he’d tackled Legolas to the snow, he saw with horror that the damage had been done. The fuse of the bottle rocket had been lit, and before he could grind the spark out, the missile had already hurtled up past the trees. Time seemed to slow as Legolas struggled beneath him and he watched with hollow eyes the bright crackle of colour as the rocket reached its peak in the grey sky. A resounding explosion echoed throughout the mountain range, and in the overwhelming moment of silence that followed, Gimli sent up a half-formed prayer to the universe to halt what he knew was coming next.

“Hey, what the hell, Gimli?” Legolas growled, shoving the Dwarf away, a furious fire in his eyes. His protests were immediately cut short by an ominous grumbling that shook the very firmament of the mountain. “What-” Without sparing a moment’s thought, Gimli shoved himself up to his feet and yanked Legolas from the bed of snow, throwing him over his powerful shoulder. He slogged through the slippery powder as he sprinted them both into the cabin, where he threw Legolas to the floor and yanked the door shut.

The chaos that ensued left Legolas prostrate on the floor, eyes wide, mouth gulping silent screams. The cabin shook, and the roaring that followed drowned out Vidar’s frantic barking. Gimli braced himself against the door, and they rode out the quaking for what felt like an eternity.

Silence followed, ringing somehow louder than the horrendous din of the moment before. The beams of the cabin ceiling groaned for a moment, and then silence overcame them again, but for Gimli’s furious breathing. He immediately took to inspecting every window and door of the cabin, praying to Mahal that they could somehow get out of the horrid mess. Up in the loft, he found that the upper few feet of the bedroom window was unobstructed by snowfall. He bellowed a primal yell of fury and helplessness.

“You fucking halfwit,” he shouted as he slunk down the ladder, and Legolas flinched, shuffling to pointlessly double check all their possible exits. “What in the Deep were you thinking, setting off firecrackers on a _mountain_? Do you have any idea how lucky we are just to be alive right now? If this cabin were even a hundred yards further down the mountain side, we’d have been crushed to death! How could anyone be so- Be so-”

His recriminations slowed to a halt when he realised that a steady stream of tears were now falling down Legolas’ face, his head hanging down and shoulders shaking. “Please don’t yell at me,” he said thickly. “I didn’t know.”

“Use your damn Elf brain, Legolas,” Gimli growled, fists clenching and relaxing as he tried to reign in his rage.

“Look, can we just relight the fire?” Legolas begged through wet sniffles. “If we’re stuck here, I’d rather be warm.” Gimli threw his hands up in the air and marched away from the Elf, needing as much distance as possible to keep from strangling the poor idiot.

“We have bigger problems to worry about,” Gimli barked. “In case you failed to notice, the generator’s been knocked offline, so we no longer have any electricity.” Legolas’ eyes grew wide.

“That means... No wifi?”

“Mahal save me,” Gimli growled, digging through his rucksack for his phone. “Be quiet. I’m phoning Emergency Services.” He tried to dial, but almost instantly, he yelled again and threw his phone hard onto the sofa bed. “Well, this is absolutely smashing. Fucking cell towers’ve been knocked offline, too.”

“Please, stop yelling,” Legolas begged. “You’re scaring Vidar.” Gimli jerked around to look at his dog, who lay shivering under the dining table. His face fell, and he slumped over to kneel before the bloodhound, soothing his head and whispering sweetly to the shaking animal. “Look, can we please light the fire? I’m cold.”

“If it’s all the same to you,” Gimli hissed with restraint, “I’d prefer to avoid carbon monoxide poisoning.” He pointed at the hearth which was now covered in a litter of brick and snow. “Look at the debris. The flue’s been damaged.” Legolas cried out and threw himself onto the sofa bed, burying his face in the pillow.

“My father’s going to kill me,” he sobbed in muffled strains.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Gimli laughed unkindly. “We’ll probably starve to death first.”

 

Gimli spent the rest of the day pointedly ignoring Legolas, shooting the humiliated blonde the deepest glares of loathing with every minor sound or movement he made. Legolas couldn’t help the wave of relief when, hours later, Gimli wordlessly climbed up to the loft to go to sleep. Legolas laid awake on the sofa bed, shivering, pretending he couldn’t see his own breath curling in front of him in the almost total darkness. He’d long since sacrificed his blankets to Vidar in penitence for his monumental stupidity. When the cold had finally settled into his bones, he swallowed down his pride and slowly mounted the ladder to where slept the person who justifiably hated him most in the world.

He stood at the bedside, gazing down at Gimli’s auburn hair and aquiline nose for a long moment before he realised with a jolt of panic that Gimli was awake, no doubt stewing in anger still. He softly whispered, “I’m cold, Gimli. Please-”

“Piss off,” the Dwarf groaned, but after an agonising moment, he eventually lifted the comforter out of the way. Legolas gratefully slid into bed next to him and tugged the thick blanket back over them. 

 

At some point in the night, Legolas stirred long enough to feel Gimli sling a strong arm over his waist and tug him flush against his warm body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter may not be for another day or so, as I'm leaving for Cambodia in the morning. If I can steal some writing time in transit, I'll get it to you sooner than later.
> 
> Thanks for the feedback, you guys! It makes a girl feel good!


	4. 31 December

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want mood, check out [this picture](https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B4Y2G2-Jcb2ZWEMwYnVWUUs5NVk) and [this picture](https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B4Y2G2-Jcb2ZaXZoM3B2Z0lUS28) and check out [this mood music](https://vimeo.com/55818166).

Morning came swiftly, but the cabin remained dark, nested as it was in the snow that surrounded it on all sides. The loft window, high up in the second floor, was almost completely obstructed by the tainted slurry of ice and soil and smashed pine trees that had roared down from the mountain top.

Cold radiated through every inch of the cabin, silent but for the ticking of the mantle clock and the snoring of the bloodhound down on the ground floor. Legolas drifted slowly awake in stages, sinking back into the warmth that surrounded him. When he remembered the devastation he’d caused yesterday, humiliation flooded his cheeks with hot redness and his breath came to him in panicked bursts. He felt Gimli’s arm tighten around his waist, and he was pulled against the solid wall of warm, firm chest behind him. He slowly felt his rapid heartbeat slowing as sleep trickled back through his limbs.

What must have been a few hours later, he felt Gimli stir behind him. He felt an unbidden wave of disappointment a moment before Gimli grumbled against his neck, “I need coffee.” They remained still, reluctant to leave their toasty cocoon. At length, he finally shifted, and Legolas begrudgingly started to rise to allow Gimli an exit from the bed. Gimli pressed Legolas back down onto the mattress. “Stay. No sense in both of us freezing our arses off just yet.”

“Yes, of course,” Legolas breathed, his heart beginning to race again as Gimli sidled across his prone body. He froze, looking down into Legolas’ eyes, he hands braced against the mattress on both sides of Legolas. Legolas’ eyes flickered shut at the sensation of Gimli’s breath dancing across his face. He grasped the bed sheet as his lips parted slightly.

“I’m still mad at you,” Gimli grumbled, shoving himself up. “And I’m not making you any coffee.” Legolas’ cheeks flushed, and he yanked the comforter back in place to block out the gush of cold air and hot shame. As Gimli yanked on a cardigan and mounted the ladder, Legolas shifted in the bed to watch him.

“I thought the avalanche knocked out the generator,” he said.

“I’m about 90% sure there’s a battery powered hot plate in the storage closet,” Gimli called out from downstairs. Legolas heard him puttering about in the kitchen, and he shivered. Cold had begun to creep into the blankets.

“What time is it?” He called.

“Almost noon,” Gimli answered, and Legolas heard him stomp across the cabin and flop down on the sofa bed. Legolas’ stomach grumbled, and he finally dragged himself from the soft bed and into a couple layers of sweaters and cream wool socks.

“I didn’t think you were physically capable of waking past six,” Legolas quipped, but the joke fell flat.

“I find myself with a distinct lack of work to do,” Gimli said sourly. Legolas climbed down from the loft to find Gimli sitting on the sofa, gnawing angrily at a thick strip of venison jerky and glaring into the dead fireplace, his mug of hot coffee steaming on the coffee table. Legolas stood awkwardly, eyeing the mug enviously.

“Is there anything to eat?”

Gimli glared at him, brandishing the jerky like a knife. “Plenty,” he spat. Legolas’ stomach lurched, but he said nothing more, opting to rummage through the fridge for leftovers. With a heavy sigh, he helped himself to a bowl of frigid, congealed porridge. He sat down on the sofa between Vidal and Gimli, and shoveled an unappetizing spoonful into his mouth.

“So, what are we going to do?” He asked softly.

“ _Do_?” Gimli asked. “Your dad’ll probably have the whole town searching for you. We wait it out ‘til they find us. Sooner, rather than later, I hope.” He yanked another bite of the jerky. Through a mouthful of venison, he growled, “By the way, if my truck’s damaged, you’re paying for it.” They ate in silence for a while, and after Legolas had rinsed his bowl, he returned to the sofa and pulled out his book, squinting in the dark at the pages.

They passed much of the afternoon and early evening in tense silence, Gimli napping in a swirl of blankets and Legolas slowly working his way through his novel in the dim light cast by his phone. His head began to throb. The dinner of cold gruel had been disappointing, and it seemed that this New Year’s Eve was going to be his worst, if not his last. At some point, he lamented, “What I wouldn’t give for a bottle of wine right now.” Gimli huffed a small laugh. Grumbling under his breath, he rose from the sofa and went to rummage through his bag. He found what he was looking for and dropped a bottle into Legolas’ lap as he reinsinuated himself into his ball of blankets.

“What’s this?” Legolas asked, turning the heavy bottle over in his hands.

“Whiskey,” Gimli said. Gratefully, Legolas twisted the top open and took a swig. He grimaced and handed it over to the Dwarf, who took a long drink from the bottle. “The official drink of us sturdy mountain folk. Sorry if it offends your delicate palate.”

“No, it’s perfect,” Legolas sighed, taking another, longer drink. The liquor warmed his stomach. They took another few drinks, and after some time, Legolas began to feel heady. He swayed a moment. Gimli laughed.

“Well, would you look at that,” he smirked. “Only six shots. Guess Elves can’t handle their drink.” Legolas’ eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared.

“How dare you?” He demanded, his lips twisting into a grin. He took the bottle from Gimli’s hands and threw back another swig. “That’s seven.” Gimli grabbed the bottle back and took a swig, then another.

“Eight,” he crowed. Vidar opened an eye and watched him balefully. Gimli held up the bottle to see that less than a quarter of the whiskey remained. Legolas swiped at the bottle, but Gimli caught him by the wrist. Startled, Legolas gazed into Gimli’s eyes, suddenly intense with some hidden thought. Legolas’ breath seized in his chest. Gimli slowly slipped the bottle into Legolas’ long fingers. Unflinchingly, Legolas took a drink, swallowing several gulps of the bitter whisky until he’d drained it all. He lowered the bottle triumphantly. Gimli rolled his eyes. “That counts as one.”

“Bollocks,” Legolas slurred.

“If you throw up,” Gimli purred, “I’m going to very cross with you for wasting perfectly good whiskey.” Suddenly, Legolas’ smile faltered, and he looked away, dropping the bottle to the floor. Gimli was perplexed by his sudden mood swing. “What?”

“What if I killed someone, Gimli?” He cried, his eyes lining with tears. Gimli reached out and awkwardly patted his arm.

“Don’t you know?” He asked warmly. “All the land downhill from here is yours.”

“What do you mean?” Legolas demanded hopefully.

“I’m not sure if you realize, but this side of the mountain is basically your family’s playground,” Gimli said, and he had the good grace not to reveal how bitter this justifiably made him. “All of the locals live in town, pretty much.” Legolas’ shoulders slumped.

“Oh,” he said simply. He wiped at his eyes fiercely and gave Gimli a watery smile. He chewed his lip and said sheepishly, “I’ve been pretty terrible, haven’t I?” When Gimli glanced at his lips for a second, Legolas’ heart leapt.

“I don’t mind,” he said finally. “Even if you finished all the whiskey.” Gimli glanced at Legolas’ lips again, and Legolas pulled away, rising from the sofa. “Where are you going?” Legolas turned to him with a sly smirk.

“You’re not the only one with a bit of holiday cheer hidden away somewhere,” he said cryptically. He opened the armoire near the front door and lifted a small, leather suitcase with one arm and a cardboard box with the other. He set them on the coffee table and clicked the suitcase open.

“A portable record player?” Gimli asked with a bark of laughter.

“Ada loves his records,” Legolas said, sliding the box towards the Dwarf. “Pick one.” Gimli flipped through the stack, his lips pursed.

“No offense,” Gimli said, scratching his beard, “but this is old people music.” Legolas looked aghast.

“Old people music?” He demanded. “Since when is Cat Stevens old people music? And what exactly do you listen to that’s so much better?”

“I dunno,” Gimli said, shrugging. “Lumineers?” Legolas raised his brow in comical disgust.

“Yikes,” he hissed, grabbing the box. He shuffled through the records quickly and pulled one from the stack. “Here, listen to this.” He fitted the record onto the turntable and moved the arm into place. In the faded light, Gimli watched the record begin to spin and settled back into his mass of blankets.

“It’s nice,” he said.

“ _Nice_?” Legolas said. “It’s ‘Northern Sky’ by Nick Drake. It’s more than nice.” Gimli shrugged, but he didn’t reply. He just closed his eyes and listened, absently stroking the top of Vidar’s slumbering head. He cracked an eye open to see Legolas swaying in front of the coffee table with a rhapsodic smile, oblivious to his own drunken trembling as he practically drank in each note that floated up from the turntable. Gimli’s stomach gave a warm flutter. He rose from the sofa, shrugging off his mantle of blankets and came to stand before Legolas. Legolas’ eyes flickered open when Gimli rested his hand on the Elf’s hip, pulling him in close. “Gimli, what are you-”

“This music needs to be danced to,” he whispered, placing his other hand on Legolas’ lower back. Tenderly, Legolas rested his arms atop Gimli’s shoulders and allowed the short man to guide him into a slow dance. He felt a soft glow where his skin met Gimli’s. He leaned down to rest his cheek on Gimli’s head, losing himself to the dual sensations of liquor haze and warm, sandalwood-scented hair.

When the song ended, Legolas pulled away, looking down into Gimli’s burning gaze. He whispered, “Gimli-”

But the spell was broken, and Gimli let him go, moving through the dark room into the kitchen. “Let’s see if I can rustle up some more coffee.” He started working on a fresh pot, and Legolas collapsed onto the sofa with a shiver.

“Great,” he said with false cheer. “I could use a warm drink.” A few moments later, Gimli returned with two steaming mugs which he set next to the record player. He returned to the kitchen for a moment then came back to scatter cream-colored candles on the coffee table, which he lit with the wide swipe of a match. The room filled with a steady, flickering glow.

They sat in silence for a while, sipping their hot coffee and watching the flames dance. The clock struck eleven on the mantel. When the record ended, Legolas reached over to flip and start it again. Before readjusting, he looked down at Gimli, waffling. “What?” The Dwarf asked suspiciously.

“I’m cold,” Legolas said, an expectant air to tone.

“You’re always cold,” Gimli replied. Legolas swayed a little, grateful the heavy slog of whiskey in his limbs was beginning to dissipate despite the cold creeping in. Gimli sighed and gently shoved Vidar to the other end of the sofa as he lifted the covers away from his body. “Well, don’t just stand there.” Legolas slunk into the waiting arms, and he curled against Gimli, resting his head on one broad shoulder. A thought skittered through his head, and he snickered. “What?”

“Nothing,” Legolas said, wiggling his nose against the errant whiskers tickling it.

“It’s obviously something, or you wouldn’t be laughing,” he said.

“No, it’s just…” Legolas started. He rolled his eyes and begrudgingly said, “I was just thinking how much like a bear you are. No offense.” Gimli wound his arm around Legolas and came to rest his palm on the Elf’s shoulder, squeezing lightly.

“Some men like that kind of thing,” he said in a low voice. Smirking, he felt Legolas tense almost imperceptibly.

“Oh, I didn’t mean-” Legolas paused before saying anything incriminating. Comfortable silence fell over them, Legolas resting against Gimli, Gimli brushing his fingers against Legolas’ shoulder. The clock ticked steadily on the mantel. Legolas’ brow twisted with some distant worry.

“What now?”

“What do you mean?” Legolas asked, voice all light and airy.

“You look… _wistful_ ,” Gimli said with distaste, “like you’re waiting for your lover to return on the sea.” Legolas huffed a breath of laughter.

“Nothing like that,” he said. “Though just as silly, I guess.”

“Elaborate,” Gimli said patiently. Legolas shifted uncomfortably in his arms.

“Well, it’s…” He paused, chewing his lip. “It’s just… In half an hour, it’ll be the new year.” He looked down at Gimli for a moment before glancing away. “I’ve never had a new year’s kiss.”

“Really?” Gimli asked in a gravelly tone. He cleared his throat. “Really?” He could tell that Legolas was blushing, even in the candle light. “Now, that can’t be true.” Legolas shrugged, and his lips went tight.

“Look, I don’t know why I brought it up,” he snapped. Then, rising, he said, “I think I’m just going to go to bed.” Gimli pulled him back down firmly to the sofa.

“You’ll do no such thing,” he said sternly. Legolas harrumphed. “You know exactly why you brought it up.” Legolas turned to him with exaggerated shock. “Oh, stop performing, or I won’t kiss you.” Legolas’ mouth snapped shut, and his histrionics ceased immediately.

“You really don’t-” But his protestations faltered when Gimli slid his hand tenderly to the nape of Legolas’ neck, his caress warm and inviting. Legolas’ heart throbbed. Gimli leaned forward slowly, too slowly, and pressed a whisper-light kiss to the corner of Legolas’ mouth. He pulled away, eyes locked with Legolas’.

“There,” he said softly. “You’re welcome.” Legolas laughed nervously and looked away.

“Why would I thank you for _that_?” He quipped. “I’d hardly consider that a kiss.” Gimli remained rigid, unwilling to relinquish his hold on Legolas just yet, even though this all seemed just a big, dumb joke to the Elf. Gimli had nearly convinced himself to just get up and make more coffee, when Legolas grasped the lapel of his cardigan with both hands and pulled him in for a hungry kiss. Traitorous heat filled the Dwarf’s belly as they separated, breathless. “Now, that’s how you kiss someone.”

Not to be bested by an Elf, Gimli wound his fingers through Legolas’ long hair and eyed his damp lips. “I’ll have you know I’m fully educated in how to kiss. I just didn’t want to scare you off, what with all your delicate sensibilities and that.”

“Oh, yeah, Papa Bear?” Legolas smirked. “Do your worst.”

“You sweet little thing,” Gimli said slyly. “I only ever do my best.” His words seemed to light a blazing fire in Legolas, because all humor left his face, and without hesitation, he threw one leg over Gimli’s, straddling the Dwarf, grabbing his bearded face, and pressing another starving kiss to his shock-slack lips. Gimli slid his broad hands under the hems of Legolas’ sweaters and cardigans and dragged his burning fingers over the delicate skin he found beneath. Legolas’ threw his head back in a sigh.

When Gimli’s calloused thumbs found his sensitive nipples and rubbed circles, Legolas lost to the urge to grind his cock against Gimli’s, already half hard just from kisses and bickering. His ardor was dampened when Vidar harrumphed next to them. Gimli gave him a baleful glance as his clever hands froze still.

“Cockblock,” he grumbled at the dog just before lifting Legolas bodily from his lap and rising from the sofa. Legolas watched him with questioning eyes. Gimli leaned up on his tiptoes and stole another hungry kiss before growling, “Loft. Now.”

Legolas shimmied up the ladder with no further prodding while Gimli stalked over to his bag and rummaged around for a moment before dragging the mass of blankets up the ladder with him. Immediately, Legolas grabbed for him again, bending down to steal another searing kiss. He felt impervious to the cold now that so much heat and knee-buckling lust were singing through his veins. Gimli tugged him down onto the bed and threw the blankets over them as they both toed off their shoes.

Legolas climbed on top of Gimli and began fumbling with the buttons of his cardigan and the red flannel shirt he wore beneath. Gimli allowed him to work as he kneaded Legolas’ arse with strong, thick fingers. Legolas’ breath skittered in his chest, and he tried not to seem so desperately hot for the Dwarf. He failed miserably, arching against the magic in Gimli’s hands. When he’d finally worked Gimli’s shirt open, he ran his palms against the sloping muscle and thick hair of his barrel chest. He nearly groaned at the sight of his thin, pale fingers stroking such a manly body in the beams of yellow moonlight trickling over their entwined forms.

Gimli yanked Legolas down into another fierce, possessive kiss, now prying Legolas’ lips open with a swipe of his tongue. Legolas devoured his mouth, realizing too late that the high, keening sound was his own. Trembling, he ground his cock against Gimli’s again, now standing rigidly, tenting his longjohns.

“Gimli,” he panted. Gimli bucked his hips up against Legolas’ soft, warm body teasingly, maddeningly.

“Yes, doll,” he whispered, his chest rising and falling beneath Legolas’ shaking hands.

“Give it to me fast and rough, okay?” He begged breathlessly. A jolt of heat shot through Gimli at Legolas’ needy words.

“What,” he teased, “no sweet nothings?” Legolas gasped as Gimli slipped his middle finger down the back of his pants, straight down to his tender opening, rubbing firmly against the puckered flesh. His head dropped forward, curtaining both their faces with pale, mussed hair.

“I want that later,” he panted. “Just make me come now. _Please_.” Gimli was more than happy to comply. Legolas collapsed onto his chest as Gimli continued torturously grinding up against Legolas’ throbbing dick and gently fingerfucking him. Gimli was almost certain he felt tears against his neck, and he decided to have mercy on Legolas.

“On your back,” he whispered, patting Legolas’ arse. They flipped, and Gimli knelt between Legolas’ long legs, tugged down the Elf’s longjohns and underwear, freeing his thin, lovely cock, earning a gorgeous _smack_ against the blonde’s flat stomach. Gimli salivated, wanting nothing more than to lathe this dick with sweet affection and tongue and lips and to gently tug at the dark blonde curls at the base.

“You don’t shave,” he said huskily. Legolas shook his head bashfully. “That’s fucking hot.” Legolas’ eyes flickered shut as he moaned.

“Please! I need it!” Legolas hissed, reaching up to unfasten Gimli’s belt and jeans. He tugged the pants down to Gimli’s thighs, revealing his thick, veiny dick. Legolas’ heart stuttered when he appraised the blushing girth of the Dwarf. Gimli shoved his hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a foil packet and a small bottle. Legolas leaned up on one elbow and took the condom from Gimli’s hands. He tore the packet open with his teeth and rolled the condom down Gimli’s blunt length with a single, sure fist.

“Eager, aren’t you?” Gimli laughed through a gasp of pleasure. He shoved Legolas onto his back, prising a laugh from Legolas as he lay sunken into the bedsheets, still all cozy in his sweaters and socks, all soft wool and hard dick. Gimli dug his nails into the palms of his hands to keep from tearing the Elf in half. Hardly trusting himself, he popped open the small bottle and squeezed out some lube with a lewd squelch. He grabbed the base of Legolas’ rigid cock, and the blonde twitched in his hand, biting back a keening moan.

“Mmm please,” he sighed as Gimli snaked his fist over Legolas, gleefully watching the pale boy writhing between his thighs, tossing his fair head back into the pillow. Legolas grew more debauched with each passing second, and it nearly toppled Gimli. He moaned low and long, “ _Please_.”

“As you wish,” Gimli whispered, and he slid down Legolas’ legs, spreading his slender thighs with their light dusting of hair. Uncapping the bottle again, he poured lube down the crease of Legolas’ core and watched with a feral hunger as it dripped down to his pucker. He dragged a finger up the cleft and swirled the lube in small, tender circles before sinking his middle finger in to the second knuckle. Legolas whined and wriggled against him, and Gimli pressed his hips down to the mattress with his free hand. “Patience,” he drawled. “Patience.”

“I have none,” he sighed petulantly. 

“Pity.” Gimli slid his finger in further, already addicted to Legolas’ velvet heat. Gathering more slippery lube, he pushed two fingers into Legolas now, reaching in to the hilt, rubbing with purpose against the bundle of nerves inside Legolas’ taut body. The Elf’s legs twitched around him.

“Oh,” he sighed, his voice on the edge of breaking. Gimli teased and spread him open, drinking up every sigh and cracked moan that fell from Legolas’ bitten lips. It wasn’t long before Legolas clutched at Gimli’s forearms with fluttering fingers. “I’m ready,” he cried. “Ai, Eru, I’m ready.”

“Won’t keep you waiting then,” Gimli grumbled, slicking his dick with more lube. He leaned over Legolas’ quivering body and braced himself against the mattress with one sure hand, guiding his aching cock to the Elf’s hot, wet hole with the other. Legolas nearly wept at the delicious burn of his body stretching tight around Gimli’s thick shaft, taking him inch by glorious inch until Gimli was pressed flush against Legolas, panting shallowly against his slim neck.

“Hard and fast, ‘member?” Legolas gasped.

“Mmhmm,” Gimli grunted, and before Legolas could goad him further, he bucked against the helpless blonde once, then twice, and after a few awkward thrusts, Legolas wrapped his legs around the Dwarf’s hips, meeting each thrust hard, practically fucking himself on Gimli’s throbbing dick. Gimli quickly realized that if Legolas were to keep that up, he would last an embarrassingly short time.

But when he gazed down onto the pretty face below his, those blue eyes heavy with pleasure, mouth fallen in silent cries, lips and cheeks so red in the moonlight, Gimli realized there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d be able to stop thrusting his cock balls deep into the Elf’s stunning, tight cunt. Just as surely as he felt his sack tightening against his body, he slipped his hand between their writhing hips and began fisting Legolas’ smooth dick roughly, not quite able to synchronize with their toe-curling humping but jerking Legolas to impending release nevertheless.

A garbled groan was his only warning as Legolas’ entire body went taut as a bow, frozen in divine agony for one stellar moment before hot come spurted across his chest, his hair, his open mouth. He sloppily licked away his own come, blue eyes sparking with challenge as he stared straight into Gimli’s soul. The Dwarf lost as hot pressure built in his balls and shot throughout his limbs, shaking him apart as he came inside Legolas. A desperate thought overcame him for a moment that he’d give anything to be fucking this arse raw, to watch his own come dripping from Legolas’ tender hold and shaking thighs. Maybe that would come in the future.

As he came down from his own orgasm, he realized that Legolas was waiting for a kiss. He gladly obliged the Elf, their tongues entwining. He could just barely taste the last vestiges of Legolas’ release on his lips. With a shudder, he pulled out of Legolas’ body and worked the condom off, tossing it away. Legolas tugged him back down into a warm, tight embrace beneath the covers, slowly working off the rest of their clothes with exhausted hands and lazy, sweet butterfly kisses.

Down below, the mantel clock struck midnight. Legolas slid a leg over Gimli’s, and the two relaxed into a long, soft, sleepy kiss. Gimli whispered, “Happy New Year, Legolas.”

“Happy New Year, Gimli.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the great feedback, pals.
> 
> I post a ton of Elf stuff on [my tumblr](http://catarrhini.tumblr.com).


	5. 1 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again with the crazy ass delays. Anyway, here's your happy ending, babes. I hope 2017 has been good to you so far.

Legolas was flying, drifting somewhere on the liminal edges of consciousness. He was warm and serene and exhausted and heavy-limbed. Somewhere, far in the distance, there was a steady, eternal drumbeat thumping slowly. The constant beating grew closer, clearer as the moment went on, until he finally awoke to the strong thrum of Gimli’s heart beneath his resting head.

They were naked, and Legolas smiled a soft, private smile. The last stitches of socks and sweaters and fluff had been peeled away over the course of the night, falling away like leaves in the autumn breeze each time they stirred from sleep that night to ravish each other’s bodies anew. When Legolas shifted, the tired burning in his limbs told the story of their vigorous passion.

“I wondered when you’d wake,” Gimli muttered, and the deep rumbling in his chest sent a cascade of warm sparks down Legolas’ spine. “I thought I’d broken you.”

“It’ll take a lot more than that to break me,” he whispered, rising to give Gimli’s lips a playful nip. Gimli grasped the blonde’s waist with strong, hot hands.

“Is that a challenge?” He purred. Legolas blushed.

“Perhaps.”

Gimli laughed, deep and rich, and it stoked a warm glow in Legolas’ belly. “You’re insatiable, you know that?” Legolas innocently shrugged and then settled down into the crook of Gimli’s armpit.

“Didn’t hear you complaining last night,” he said. Gimli huffed, but he didn’t reply. They lay in silence for a long while, nested as they were in their cozy bed, wrapped up in each other. The slurry of snow from the avalanche had reached nearly halfway up the window in the loft, but the night had brought heavy snowfall, and only a scant foot of window remained clear to allow in the bright yellow morning sun.

Suddenly, a pair of boots appeared in the window. Legolas and Gimli jerked to alertness. The interloper dropped to his knees, and Legolas realized with a jolt of relief that Gimli had been right: Thranduil had come searching. As suddenly as his father appeared, he was gone again, the faint sound of excited shouting reaching through the glass. Vidar was barking like crazy down on the ground floor.

Frantically, the two fell out of bed, yanking on the articles of clothing that had been scattered all over the loft floor. They were quite nearly completely clothed by the time Thranduil returned to the window, this time with some companions in tow. 

“Stay back!” They could hear him order, and seconds later, one of the other men swung an axe against the glass, and with a brittle blast, the window and slabs of snow smashed down to the floor. “Legolas, are you okay?”

“Yes, ada,” he replied numbly.

“Hang on,” the older Elf ordered. “We’ll have you out in a moment.” The two other men unrolled a thick horse blanket over the tunnel out of the loft. Gimli went down the ladder to grab Vidar and hoisted him up to safety under one arm. Once he’d cleared the breach and joined the rescue party up on the snow bank, he found Legolas engulfed in his father’s embrace, the tall man holding his son like a buoy in a restless sea.

Gimli couldn’t hear the man’s frantic whispered questions, but Legolas blushed and pulled away from the hug and whined, “Ada, I’m _fine_.”

They were summarily swept up in the rescue effort and carted off to an ambulance parked on the far road at the end of what once was the driveway. Vidar ran off to go sniff around and roll in the snow, while two paramedics wrapped Legolas and Gimli in scratchy wool blankets and forced steaming mugs of tea into their hands. Thranduil shoehorned himself in and began again with a flood of questions.

“Did you two have plenty of food? Are you hungry now?” He asked, and before either could answer, he added, “Do you know how lucky you are?” He remained stoic, even as his voice trembled, and he reached out to smooth Legolas’ mussed hair. “If the cabin were any further down the mountain, it would’ve been destroyed by the snow.” He bit his lip, just drinking in the very existence of his son, still alive, still breathing. “I’m glad you managed without electricity. It’s a good thing you were there, Gimli. Legolas would’ve been lost without you, I’m sure.”

“Ada-”

“Do you know what triggered the avalanche?” Thranduil asked, his voice suddenly quite choked. He watched them expectantly. Gimli could feel Legolas stiffen beside him, and when the blonde’s face went paler than usual, he just sighed and shrugged.

“No idea what might’ve caused it, sir,” Gimli said, mentally willing away the sweet amusement that Thranduil’s charming doting was causing. “Just one of those things.” Thranduil nodded and turned to glance at the rangers gathered off in the distance.

“I’d better go see what the plan of action is,” Thranduil noted. Looking back at Legolas, he said, “I’ve already bought us plane tickets to Thailand. I figured you’d welcome a sunny beach.”

“You already bought them?” Legolas asked softly.

“I knew I’d find you,” Thranduil answered, suddenly grave and unreadable. “There was no other option.” He nodded, more to himself than anything, and he turned to confer with the group of rangers.

Gimli cleared his throat and looked away from Legolas for a moment, disappointment sitting heavy on his heart. “So, Thailand, huh?” Legolas brushed his fingertips against the back of Gimli’s hand.

“I’d rather be here,” he said quietly. Gimli smiled.

“With me?”

“With you,” he said. He grew serious and said, “You know, I could stick around for a while. Rent a hotel in town. Join in the effort to rescue your truck from the snow.” Gimli’s smile was contagious then. Legolas wanted to kiss him. The thought made his heart pound with warmth. He settled for another surreptitious brushing of fingers against Gimli’s broad hand. Gimli cleared his throat again, frustrated by the heat rising in his cheeks.

“No,” Gimli finally said. “Your dad clearly needs this. You gave him quite a scare. You should go with him to Thailand. I’ll still be around when you come back.” Legolas sighed and wilted a little. “Besides, my cousin Balin has a backhoe I can use. It’ll be okay.” He leaned against the Elf playfully. “So, uh,” he began, “I guess I’ll see you next winter?”

“I was thinking maybe some time before that,” Legolas answered with a mischievous spark in his eyes. “If it’s fine with you, of course.” He bit his bottom lip and gazed with open hunger at Gimli.

“I’d like that,” he said, his voice a deep rumble. “Immensely.” They held each other’s gazes for a moment before Vidar gave an enthusiastic bark from off in the background, and Legolas burst into soft laughter.

“Me, too, Shortstack. Me, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank all of you who've commented, left kudos, bookmarked or rec'ed. It means the world to me, and I appreciate you.
> 
> Also, the amazing [themirkyking](http://archiveofourown.org/users/themirkyking) drew an adorable, fluffy picture of Legolas and Gimli dancing from the last chapter. Take a look [here](http://themirkyking.tumblr.com/post/155869430477/inspired-by-in-a-wooden-nest-by-catarrhini).
> 
> If you like my writing and want to follow my different projects and put up with my horrendous shitposting, come [follow me](http://catarrhini.tumblr.com) on tumblr.


End file.
